When a shock comes, I wish for a bed with a warm body inside. Let me crawl in and feel that the world is safe. The tower has been stricken by yet another lightning. Uranus raised its fierce fist and crushed that little rock as if it was a dry piece of cheese. Please warm body, you who have a home, with a white-linen bed, a soft heart, and a poet’s eye, invite me into your chambers of cushions and feathers. I’ll sing you old songs of spices and satin. I’ll tell you about the traveler’s road. Lend me space beside your soft place. I miss being taken into soft clouds of soothe.
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